


Lamplight

by GuenVanHelsing



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon-Typical Rowdy Shenanigans, R.I.P. Innocent House Furnishings, The Priest Brothers Theory, This Is Literally Just A Trip to the Hardware Store, Todd Brotzman & Martin Bonding Time, Vaguely Implied Brotzly and Drummerwolf, as always, super super vaguely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 15:32:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17368577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuenVanHelsing/pseuds/GuenVanHelsing
Summary: Todd wasn't the biggest fan of the Rowdy 3, and he liked them a bit less when theybrokeshit. Especially when it washis.





	Lamplight

**Author's Note:**

> Gift for @[big-sad-emo-dad](http://big-sad-emo-dad.tumblr.com/) on tumblr as part of the DGHDA Gift Exchange! Hope u enjoy <3

Todd thought he had a pretty good handle on all that holistic crap. He’d learned to roll with the flow of whatever nonsense popped up on his adventures with Dirk and Farah — and maybe he rolled a little too much with the flow sometimes, but occasionally that had  _ helped _ with cases — and he could put up with a good amount of nonsense from the various holistics in his life now without too much stress. 

_ Except  _ when it came to the Rowdy 3. 

Todd hadn’t forgotten his first encounter with them — back when there had just been four, and they’d smashed his entire apartment to get after the guy in a bright yellow jacket who had  _ also _ broken into Todd’s apartment. 

It had been a shitty apartment, but it had been  _ his _ apartment, at least for a while. 

Now “his” apartment was technically “their” apartment, because he shared it with two other people, and there were sometimes when he wished he was living alone again. 

One bonus of not living alone, however, was he didn’t have to  _ be _ alone to deal with the occasional crazy visitors — or in this case,  _ visitors, _ as the Rowdy 3 milled through their living space, since it was a bit easier to deal with a wrecked apartment than a wrecked office. Dirk insisted there was a client coming that evening, and Todd had no intentions of racing to the store and back for enough  _ whatever _ to cover whatever damage followed the Rowdies. 

It wasn’t that they didn’t  _ try _ to keep their wild energy in check for visits to the office. The first time they’d torn through and wrecked the front office in their excitement, Amanda had dragged him out by their collars — Vogel in one hand and Cross in the other, with Martin, Gripps, and a giggling Beast fleeing her wrath — and since then they’d been  _ better _ about the amount of damage that occurred. They were like a bunch of unruly cats, swatting things off of counters and tables and knocking things over, ramming into each other and into walls and furniture a little too rough, and things just tended to  _ break _ near them. 

Cross had sworn he hadn’t touched the toaster, but it  _ had _ been oddly fried from just a single piece of toast, as if some electrical surge had raced through it. 

Not to mention none of their dishes matched anymore, since Farah had to keep buying new additions from the thrift store to keep up with the mysteriously smashed mugs and plates. 

And speaking of mysteriously smashed mugs, the hideous neon green one shaped vaguely like an avocado had just met a miserable end at the hands of an overly excited Vogel swerving to avoid Cross barreling into him, and Todd pinched the bridge of his nose and swallowed the urge to scream. Amanda was oblivious to the disaster that was becoming their living room, chatting with Farah, and Dirk looked to be one straw short of losing his cool at the walking tornadoes wandering their home.

They just… didn’t…  _ stop. _

Despite Dirk’s initial trepidation at their arrival, and his continued jumpiness whenever one of the Rowdies got too close, the wild group didn’t seem particularly hungry this trip. At least, not for Dirk’s energies — Cross and Gripps were quite content to eat through Todd’s stash of Chex Mix and Doritos. 

Beast, on the other hand, saw fit to  _ throw _ food — specifically, one of the apples that Farah had artfully arranged in a colourful fruit bowl on the counter — and that wasn’t the only item sailing through the air. A book that looked suspiciously like the detective novel Dirk had been reading over breakfast sailed past Todd’s head, snatched from the air by Martin. The blonde tossed the book toward Vogel, who howled and swung his bat, sending the book sailing across the room — to smash into the lamp on the table, sending both book and lamp tumbling to the floor. 

“Holy  _ shitballs!” _ yelled Vogel, jumping away from the shattered lamp, and Gripps slung an arm around him, pulling him further back from the broken ceramic now littering the floor. 

“Jesus  _ Christ,” _ snapped Todd. “What the hell did you do that for?” 

Martin bared his teeth in an unfriendly smile, and Amanda looked over from her conversation, apparently able to pick out the change in the room only when it got quiet. 

Which, looking at the people she was spending most of her time with, was understandable. 

“Everyone calm down,” said Dirk, a little too fast. “No need to get— ah, upset. Nobody’s hurt, it’s fine.” 

“They broke a  _ lamp, _ Dirk!” said Todd.

“It’s  _ just _ a lamp,” said Dirk, more to himself than to anyone else, really, and took a deep, long breath. “Okay,” he said on the exhale, and Todd recognized a pasted-on smile when he saw one, especially when said smile was pasted on Dirk’s face. “Just a lamp. Those are replaceable. And as long as nobody’s hurt, it’s all fine, right?” 

“That was the only working light in the room,” said Todd, shooting a frustrated look at Vogel, who just grinned. 

“Then we get another one. Simple as that, right? So,  _ Todd, _ why don’t you take Martin to the store,  _ hmm?” _ said Dirk, pushing Todd toward the door, and in doing so, toward the thunderous-faced Rowdy. “You can drive your, uh, van, right Martin?” 

“Sure,” drawled the Rowdy, and Todd felt very, very small looking up at him. 

“Dirk, I don’t think this is such a good—” 

“See you in a bit, Todd!” said Dirk, shooing them out, and Todd caught a glimpse of Amanda shooting him a grin and a big thumbs-up before the door slammed shut behind them. 

Martin fished out a cigarette and lit it, breathing out a huff of smoke. “Y’comin’?” he muttered, and headed for the Oh No Mobile, which Todd could now see was parked rather haphazardly half in the neighbor’s driveway. 

This couldn’t possibly be a good idea in any shape or form — getting into a van with a known hooligan  _ alone _ to go… buy a lamp? When said hooligan  _ definitely _ didn’t like him one iota? 

Yeah, no way  _ this _ could go wrong. 

Todd buckled himself in, picking at the frayed strap of the seat belt — how the hell had they managed to fray a  _ seat belt? _ — and—

Nothing happened. 

Todd frowned, and glanced over at Martin, who was cupping his hand over his cigarette as he lit it, sharp eyes glinting at him over his smudged glasses. “We going, or what?” 

“There a store near here?” said Martin, and cranked the key, Todd frowning as the engine rumbled to life, and the shorter man leaned over to adjust the volume of the music. 

He turned the knob, and the volume didn’t change a bit. 

“Broken,” muttered Martin, and sent the van lumbering off of the neighbor’s petunias onto the street. 

Todd sighed, slumping down in his seat and reminding himself that it wouldn’t be the first time he’d subjected his ears to overly loud music, and it more likely than not wouldn't be the last. “You know where the store is, right?” 

“Passed it on the way in.” 

“Great,” said Todd. Maybe they could get through this without too much more craziness, and without Martin, like, beating him up in a back alley, or something. Not that he  _ expected _ it, but he knew the Rowdy wasn’t particularly fond of him, and  _ he _ wasn’t all that fond of  _ Martin, _ either. 

Fucking scary bat-wielding man. 

Martin drove in silence, smoking through a cigarette and tapping his fingers against the wheel along with the beat of the music, and Todd held back a sigh of relief as the van neared the hardware store. 

...and drove right past it. 

“Wait, that was the turn—” Todd twisted in his seat, watching the familiar sign of the hardware store trail away behind them before turning to face Martin. “What the hell, man? The store is right— there!” 

Martin didn’t answer, and Todd’s mouth dipped into a frown — and a moment later he was clinging to the door as the van zoomed around a corner, fast enough that Todd feared for a heart-stopping instant that the van was going to rise up on two wheels. 

“Shit!” he yelped, the seat belt tight against his chest. “Can you  _ not?” _

The van spun around another corner, wheels screeching and engine roaring as they sped up, and Martin said nothing. Todd took several deep breaths, tugged his seat belt a little tighter over his chest, and tried to ease up his grip on the door. 

“Are you even  _ listening—” _ he started, glancing at the Rowdy, and trailed off. “Look, I appreciate you driving, I just—” he gestured at one of the many, many wide driveways they were rolling past, “can we— turn around here, or…?” 

Nothing. The van continued on, rumbling and growling, more vocal than either of its occupants, and Todd clung to his seat belt, praying it would hold as they raced along. He glanced at Martin again, frowning slightly. 

“Hey, uh,” he said, “are you— is everything okay?” Martin glanced at him, but didn’t respond, mouth set in a grim line. “Is this like a… universe… thing, or whatever?” 

Martin didn’t answer, just swung the van sharply around a corner and into a parking lot, brakes screeching as they skidding to a stop between two other vehicles. 

Todd did  _ not _ believe they were parked within the lines, and how they hadn’t struck either of them was a mystery to him. 

Martin turned off the van, the music cutting off abruptly, and the silence was unsettling after the wild rush into the parking lot. Todd couldn’t see past the jacked-up pickup truck on their left, but Martin’s gaze out the window was unwavering. 

“Is there something—” 

“Be quiet, Toad,” growled Martin, and Todd inhaled deeply, letting out a breath and telling himself, not for the first — or eighth — time that Martin and the rest of the poorly monickered Rowdy 3 were important to Amanda, and that he needed to be  _ civil, _ at the very least. 

But. 

“My name,” said Todd, “isn’t  _ Toad—” _

Martin’s head whipped around, and Todd froze as a rumble rose from the Rowdy. “Todd  _ Brotzman,” _ snarled Martin, “keep  _ quiet.” _

Todd sank down in his seat and was quiet. 

Martin resumed his staring out the window, glancing occasionally in the rearview mirror, and Todd fumed silently. The engine ticked as it cooled, and the low buzz of other cars and shoppers talking as they rolled their rickety carts back to their cars filtered through the open crack of the window by Martin. The Rowdy sat impossibly still, barely seeming to breathe, and Todd was just about to let go of the seat belt to give his aching fingers a rest when Martin cranked the key in the engine again and eased the van past a little old lady and her squeaky-wheeled cart. 

“What the hell was that about?” said Todd, once they were back on the road, and sighed when he received no answer, again. He opened his mouth to to repeat the question, then paused, looking at the blonde — or more specifically Martin’s  _ hands, _ which had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. “Are you okay?” 

“Fine,” Martin ground out, and sent the van careening down another street, and Todd clung to the door for dear life. 

He didn’t  _ look _ fine, and Todd had never seen the Rowdy leader look so out of sorts. Never really seen  _ emotion _ in him, if he was being honest, and the naked  _ fear _ in the blonde’s driving wasn’t very reassuring for his continued longevity. 

Todd had  _ plans, _ dammit, he didn’t want to end his life wrapped around a  _ tree. _

“Anything you, uh, wanna talk about?” tried Todd. He glanced at the passing scenery, trying to spot any recognizable landmarks, but nothing looked familiar. Fuck, he hoped they weren’t  _ lost. _ “Should we look for another store, or something…? Oh,” he said, as the van pulled into the lot for the store. 

Martin glanced at him, slamming the van into park, and climbed out without a word. Todd took a deep breath, unclenched his fingers from the seat belt, and hurried after him. 

The store was bright and surprisingly busy — Todd had to squeeze past plenty of awkwardly placed carts in aisles as he struggled to catch up with Martin, who seemed to know precisely where he was going. Todd found him in the light ficture aisle, and unlit cigarette clamped between his teeth, glowering at lightbulbs. 

Todd could understand a dislike for lightbulbs — he still had nightmares about that fucking death maze. “Hey,” he said slowly, and Martin lifted his gaze from the fluorescents. “So, uh. Lamp?” 

“Pick one,” said Martin quietly. His attention had moved past Todd, but when he turned to see what the Rowdy was looking at, Todd saw just another shopper, sleepily tossing items into their cart. 

Todd sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to get much help from Martin. There wasn’t a huge selection of lamps, so he grabbed a box for one that most resembled the one that had broken. 

“White one would be better,” muttered Martin, and Todd froze, the box halfway off the shelf. 

“The— white one?” 

“Better lighting,” said Martin, and gestured toward the lamps to Todd’s right. “Tha’ one’s too shaded.” 

Todd looked at the other lamp, then at the one he’d chosen — the shade  _ was _ kind of dark. “Okay,” said Todd, and pushed it back onto the shelf. “Since when were you an expert on interior decorating?” He tried to keep his tone light, genuinely curious, and Martin was quiet for a moment as Todd grabbed the box for the other lamp. 

“Ma taught me.” 

Todd nearly dropped the box. “Your mom?” he said, and it shouldn’t have been as much of a shock as it was. Surely all of the holstics had parents, somewhere — they hadn’t popped out of Blackwing, they had to have come from  _ somewhere. _

Fuck, he didn’t even know if Dirk knew where his parents were. 

If they were still alive.

It wasn’t something he could just  _ ask. _

And— 

“She decorated houses,” said Martin. “To sell.” He waited for Todd to wrangle a better grip on the box, which really seemed too large for one lamp. “Sometimes she’d take us with her.” 

Todd sidestepped an oblivious shopper, following Martin toward the checkout lines, and the whispered  _ “Us?” _ slipped out of him before he could stop it. 

“Me an’ Oz. My brother.” 

“You have a brother?” blurted Todd, setting the box on the counter, and Martin looked away, silent as Todd dug out his wallet and paid for the lamp.The Rowdy picked up the box before Todd could get his wallet back in his pocket, already headed for the door, and Todd hurried after him, suddenly, wildly grateful that Martin had been almost…  _ normal _ in the store. 

Todd smacked face-first into Martin’s back, an immovable wall, and he swore, stepping back and rubbing his nose. “What now?” he said, and Martin shoved the box at him. 

“Get to the van,” said Martin. “Can you drive?” 

“What?” said Todd, and Martin dumped a set of keys on top of the box. 

“Drive,” said Martin, and took off, loping around the side of the store, and Todd was left standing in the parking lot with his new lamp. 

What the  _ fuck _ was going on? 

Todd wrestling the box into the van, grabbing the keys and climbing in, frowning at the paint-smudged dashboard. It didn’t feel right, driving the van — it was the  _ Rowdy _ van, and there were no Rowdies in it. He turned the key. 

The engine rolled over, and the van was silent. 

Dead silent. 

The meters on the dashboard didn’t shift, the lights didn’t turn on, and the loud music didn’t rise from the speakers. But the engine was running, and the van moved when Todd put it into drive and let up on the brakes. 

“You don’t like me much, huh?” muttered Todd, and directed the van toward the parking lot exit. The engine rumbled, and Todd swallowed hard. “You’re not Mona, are you?” he whispered, but there was no answering rumble, and he cleared his throat, shaking his head. 

_ Two _ shapeshifting holistics was probably unlikely. 

Right? 

Martin was waiting by the first stop sign he reached. The Rowdy lit a cigarette as Todd scrambled into the passenger seat, jumping up into the van and slamming the door behind him. 

The radio immediately rumbled to life. 

“That’s creepy,” muttered Todd. Martin snorted, huffing out a plume of smoke, and Todd sighed, rolling down his window. “Everything okay?” 

“He’s lost the trail,” said Martin, gunning the engine and sending the happily rumbling van down the road, and Todd gripped his seat belt on instinct. 

“He? He who?” said Todd. “Was somebody  _ following _ us?” 

“Got too close,” said Martin. “Should be fine now.” 

_ “Should _ be— excuse me if that isn’t very comforting! Who was following us?” 

Martin glanced at him. “Priest.” 

Todd stared. “That creepy fuck who was hunting everybody? You  _ saw _ him?  _ Here?” _

“Didn’ see him,” muttered Martin. “Didn’ have to.” 

“You knew he was here?” said Todd. 

Martin shrugged. “Always know where he is,” he said quietly, hands tight on the wheel. “Not— not precisely, just— that he’s close. Or gettin’ closer.” 

“How?” said Todd. “Is it like— how you can always find Dirk?” 

“Maybe,” said Martin. “Don’t know. Just always know when he’s near.” He huffed again, flicking the spent cigarette butt out the window. “Lucky he ain’t got the same, but he’s damned lucky at sniffin’ us out. I won’t lead him back to my family.” 

“Your brother?” 

“No,” said Martin, the word short, a little sharp. “My boys. Drummer. My  _ family. _ Have to protect them.” He let go of the wheel, propping one knee against it as he lit another cigarette. “Have to protect them from him,” he said softly on a puff of smoke. 

“From your… oh,” said Todd. “Are you saying— that  _ Priest—  _ is your…?”

Martin didn’t answer, just turned the van into the driveway of the agency, slamming on the brakes before the van could bump into Farah’s Jeep. “Todd Brotzman,” he said, and Todd froze with his hand on the seat belt buckle. “I ain’t gonna let anything happen to Amanda.” 

“How do I know,” said Todd slowly, “that next time you drive off with her, that she won’t end up in jail in some magical alternate dimension again?” He didn’t say,  _ Or hunted down by some crazy, gun-toting madman? _   but he had a feeling Martin knew what he meant. 

“You don’t,” said Martin. “An’  _ fuck, _ neither do I, but I’d give my life in a heartbeat to keep her safe.” 

Todd looked at him, and Martin looked back, and Todd sighed. “I know,” he said, and he did. “I  _ know. _ Just— she’s my sister. I’m always gonna be worried about her.” 

“She’s got a phone.” 

Todd stared at him. “She wants me to…?” 

Martin shrugged, and climbed out of the van. Todd unbuckled the seat belt and got out, finding Martin already dragging the lamp box out of the back. The Rowdy pushed it at Todd, tossing away his cigarette, and Todd staggered up to the steps with the unwieldy box, shaking his head. 

Maybe they could get along, after all. Maybe they wouldn’t be  _ best buds, _ or anything, but they could at least be  _ friendly. _

“They're back!” 

The howl reached Todd’s ears an instant before Martin stumbled back, as Vogel had launched himself at him. Martin was laughing, hauling the younger Rowdy back inside, and Todd paused on the doorstep. 

This was his life now. 

Absolutely,  _ totally _ fucking insane, but it was  _ his, _ and he had people he cared about — people he  _ loved _ — and if some of the people they cared about were a little fucking nuts, well. 

A broken lamp here or there wasn’t going to break their family. 


End file.
